Some Truths Are Loyal
by Honor Reid
Summary: Ezekiel and Jenkins are being stalked.


A/N: Thank you to both of my betas for this fic jdl71 and meridianrose both made this story so much better. This was written for the Librarians ship-a-thon 2017, Ezekiel & Jenkins week. Also for hc_bingo prompt: hostile climate. Mythology based on info I found on Wikipedia and a post on tumblr. The rest I made up. Title from the song _South_ by _Sleeping at Last_

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 **~The Librarians~**

"We're being stalked," Jenkins said somberly, as he continued to nonchalantly shine the light from his flashlight on each headstone they passed.

"By what?" Ezekiel asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

It was supposed to have been an easy mission. A quick jump to jolly ole England, then all they had to do was find the grave of one Henry Smithson. Once found, they would dig up the manuscript that had been buried there, before the world ending cult who was looking for it did.

The six of them had split up, as there were a total of three graveyards where the tablet could have been buried. They had broken up into teams of two; Cassie and Jake had taken the cemetery to the north, Flynn and Eve went to the one to the east, and Jenkins and himself had taken the southernmost one.

They had already run into two of the cult followers who belonged to the group, but they had managed to ditch them a few blocks from the centuries old cemetery they were currently standing in. Ezekiel knew they were on borrowed time; it wouldn't be long before the men doubled back and found them.

He was brought back to the present by Jenkins saying, "It's a church grim."

"A what?" Ezekiel asked in confusion, almost running into the back of his companion. He was too busy trying to peer into the thick fog filled darkness to pay attention to what was happening in front of him. Ezekiel had a flashlight in one hand and a shovel in the other, as he tried unsuccessfully to look everywhere at once. Then he heard it. A low but distinctive growl coming from in front of them. Curious, he stepped around a motionless Jenkins.

"Hold still, Mr. Jones," Jenkins said through clenched teeth, his hand coming up to grip Ezekiel's shoulder. "In ancient times it was believed that the first person buried in a new graveyard was doomed to be trapped there for all time guarding the church against evil spirits. The grim never leaves the church grounds. Instead they spend eternity within its boundaries, never allowed to crossover themselves. In order to spare a human soul from this fate they instead buried a black dog to protect both the living and the dead."

"We could try to out run him. You said he couldn't go past the graveyard boundary," Ezekiel whispered back as the growling got louder and now seemed to be coming from all sides.

"We wouldn't make it," Jenkins said his voice firm.

Ezekiel gasped when both of their flashlights dimmed and then went out. Jenkins moved his hand from Ezekiel's shoulder to the back of his neck, and said in a low voice, "Ezekiel, I need you to hold very still no matter what happens next. You must trust me in this, we will be fine. _Just don't move_."

He was shocked that Jenkins had actually used his first name, and with that one word, Ezekiel felt the seriousness of the situation fall on him like a weight. A panicky feeling settled in his chest, but the warmth of Jenkins' palm on the back of his neck helped to center him and it let him know he wasn't alone.

The growling that had been nearly constant during their conversation cut off abruptly and two glowing red eyes appeared in front of them. Ezekiel tried to peer into the darkness to see what was behind those eyes but it was like the night folded in on itself and became even darker, so all Ezekiel saw was a suggestion of a canine form without any real definition.

Suddenly the eyes blinked out and the swirl of darkness came closer, ominously hovering in front of them. Then in a terrifying rush it enshrouded them both. Ezekiel inhaled sharply and jerked back a half a step in spite of himself, desperately trying to hold still. It felt like the grim was trying to smother him.

Jenkins gently squeezed the back of his neck, "You're okay," the older man reassured him.

Ezekiel tried to believe him even as the swirling darkness cut out all light. The moon and stars were gone; he couldn't even see Jenkins who he knew was standing right next to him.

It was becoming hard to breathe; it felt like every cell in his body was being invaded. Everything in him was telling him to go; he shook with the urge to move, to run, to escape.

"Trust me," Jenkins said his voice drifting oddly through the darkness as he gently moved his thumb against the skin of Ezekiel's neck. Ezekiel found himself leaning into the hold, taking comfort from it, trying to block out the fear that threatened to choke him. His lungs were being squeezed to the point he could no longer draw in a breath.

That terrifying moment seemed to last an eternity and then with a faint whooshing sound the grim was gone. All at once the moonlight, the stars, and the light from their flashlights were back.

Ezekiel leaned weakly against his shovel as he sucked in a deep breath, starved for oxygen. Jenkins gave him a commiserating pat on the back before he started walking, once again shining his light on the various headstones looking for Henry Smithson's final resting place.

Ezekiel watched him walk away in shock at how casual the man was acting. As Jenkins got further away he ran to catch up and practically shouted, his confusion coloring every word, "What just happened?"

Catching up to the caretaker of the library, Ezekiel slowed to a walk just as Jenkins said, "We were being judged and thankfully we were found worthy."

"What?" Ezekiel said still in shock.

"Which part was unclear?" Jenkins said distractedly, as he stopped briefly trying to decipher a worn away tombstone, before continuing on in the same sedate pace.

He opened his mouth to explain when Jenkins exclaimed, "Aha! Found it."

Jenkins stepped aside and Ezekiel saw a partially broken headstone that said H. Smithson. With a sigh, Ezekiel handed Jenkins his flashlight and planted the tip of the shovel in the top soil. Placing his foot on the top, he pushed. The ground didn't give at all.

Ezekiel gave a grunt of frustration and pushing harder he managed to sink the blade halfway, finally shifting some of the old graveyard dirt. "How did you know _we_ …," Ezekiel breathed out before stopping and then deciding to be honest continued, " _I_ would be found worthy?" He tried to sound casual as he continued to dig, slowly making progress.

Jenkins answered in a matter of fact tone, "Because I know you," At Ezekiel's look of disbelief, he explained further, "Oh, not the front you put on for the world. I see the real you, Mr. Jones."

Ezekiel, who had paused in order to hear Jenkins' answer started digging again, feeling disconcerted by the older man's faith in him. It was something he would have to think about later. He carried on in silence for a few moments when his shovel suddenly hit something with a resounding metal clank. Ezekiel gave Jenkins a wide smile before he handed him the shovel. Bending down, he brushed off the remaining dirt, to reveal an old rusty metal box. Gripping the handle, Ezekiel pulled it out of the hole; just as a scream rent the air.

Jumping up from where he had been kneeling, Ezekiel started towards the sound, when Jenkins placed a hand on his chest stopping him. Ezekiel looked up incredulously. "What are you doing?"

Jenkins said in a somber voice, "It is the men from earlier. We can't help them."

Ezekiel took in the older man's solemn expression, the resigned look in his eyes, and knew it was true. He supposed people trying to end the world wouldn't be considered worthy. That didn't stop him from flinching as another scream filled the graveyard only to be abruptly cut off. Ezekiel nodded and in a voice that shook just a bit said, "I guess they were found wanting."

"Indeed," Jenkins agreed, before turning, carrying his flashlight in one hand and slinging an arm around Ezekiel's shoulders to guide him towards the front gate of the graveyard, "Come Mr. Jones, we may have been found worthy but it's best not to linger in a grim's graveyard for too long."

Lugging both the shovel and the metal box, Ezekiel walked beside him resisting the urge to look behind them, afraid of what he would see. As it was he could've sworn the entire time they were walking that something was staring at them from the darkness. He only was able to breathe again when they walked through the front gate and back towards their car. Ezekiel was determined to steer clear from all graveyards from here on out.

 **The End**


End file.
